


we're messy but i like it

by fatcatwrites



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, M/M, PWP, Rimming, dub-con, possible underage, slight power play/power dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 03:07:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3103298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatcatwrites/pseuds/fatcatwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OKAY so i put the underage warning just in case: because this is asgardian and who knows how they age. Loki is the midgardian equivalent of 14 and Thor is '18'. So yeah. because of that i have it labelled as dub-con.</p><p>PWP. it's literally just smut. thor sneaking into loki's bedroom at night to play a 'game' which is just sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're messy but i like it

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and appreciated!!!!!!!!!!!! please point out any errors too because it's very late and i only looked over it briefly.

Once Loki reached adolescence, his brother started teaching him a new game, one he claimed all siblings played. 

 

It starts with stolen, furtive kisses late at night when none could see, and progresses to more and more daring acts; Thor likes to sink his teeth into the soft skin of Loki’s neck, high up where no collar could cover, likes to run his hands over Loki’s backside and leave dark, purpling bruises on his hips.

 

_The trick is not getting caught,_ Thor says, low and secret. _And I know you are so very good at tricks._

 

And Loki, who is still young and impressionable, who adores his older brother with everything he has, believes Thor because he _wants_ to. This is something only he and his brother share, something neither Sif nor the Warriors Three could take from him. In these moments, Thor is _his_ , and Loki is ever greedy for the light his brother casts.

 

—

 

Tonight Loki waits in his chambers, the candles snuffed and curtains pulled wide to let in the starlight. He listens intently for the familiar, near-silent tread of his brother’s footsteps, heart pounding loud and steady in his ears.

 

No matter how many times they play, Loki never bores of this game.

 

The soft creak of Loki’s door opening sends a fresh rush of adrenaline through his blood. It closes with a soft _thump_ , followed by the click of the lock, and then Loki can hear his brother approaching, the soft rustling of clothing nearly lost amongst Loki’s own panicked response.

 

He’s not _completely_ stupid. Loki knows the game they play is wrong, sick, knows the real reason why they cannot be caught. But Loki covets Thor’s attention more than anything else, and if this is what it takes to keep it, than so be it.

 

Thor says nothing to him, merely climbs into bed and slots in behind Loki, as if he were made for that very space. One thick arm wraps around Loki’s waist to pull him flush against Thor’s back, his free hand brushing aside Loki’s hair to mouth at his neck.

 

“I know you’re awake,” Thor murmurs, and his voice sends shivers down Loki’s spine. He arches back into his brother, chasing his touch, glad that it’s dark so Thor can’t see him blush like a maiden from the briefest kiss.

 

Thor’s hand closes around his throat, a reminder to keep quiet as his other hand tugs down Loki’s sleeping pants, fingers trailing down the cleft of his ass and pressing against the furl of his hole. Loki whimpers – whether in eagerness or trepidation, even he cannot tell – and Thor’s hand on his throat tightens in warning.

 

“Oil,” Loki manages to gasp, and sags in relief when Thor’s hand retreats. Thor rolls Loki over onto his stomach, pulling off his pants the rest of the way and nudging his legs apart. His hands run up and down Loki’s sides, as if to soothe a frightened animal, and Loki relaxes into the touch despite himself.

 

Thor’s palms are rough with callouses from the sparring ring, catching and dragging against Loki’s skin in the most delicious way. Thor’s hands trail lower, running over his backside and pulling his cheeks apart, exposing his hole to the cool night air.

 

“Remember to be quiet,” Thor whispers, the ghost of his breathing brushing across his most intimate place. It’s quickly followed by the hot, wet slide of a tongue, and Loki has to bury his face into the pillows, biting down on them to muffle his whines. 

 

Thor laps against his hole in broad, wet, stripes, filling the room with obscene sounds that have Loki’s cock twitching and drooling precum. Another whimper escapes Loki’s throat as Thor starts working one thick digit inside, slick with spit. His mouth pulls away and the bed shifts as Thor settles his weight against Loki’s back.

 

“Look at you,” Thor growls, biting down on Loki’s ear. “Greedy little slut.”

 

A second finger pushes in, and it’s too much – Loki sobs as Thor pulls back, only to shove in again, harder, deeper, twisting his wrist to brush against that spot that can reduce Loki to a needy mess in seconds.

 

“Brother, please,” Loki pants, arching back, fucking himself on Thor’s hand in desperate, erratic bursts. It _burns_ , too dry, too thick, too soon, but it’s perfect because it’s _Thor, Thor, Thor_ –

 

He must’ve been saying that last part out loud, because Loki can hear Thor’s rumble of amusement as he withdraws his fingers, leaving Loki gaping and open and empty, and he’s going to _kill_ Thor, going to claw his eyes out, flay the skin from his flesh — except he’s not, because Thor’s fingers are back, slick with oil, teasing at his rim before pushing in, alternating between two and three fingers until Loki’s a panting, ragged mess. There’s hardly any resistance even when Thor scissors his fingers, because Loki is so well stretched he’s positively _gaping_ at this point. There’s hardly any friction at all, not nearly enough for Loki to come.

 

“I’m ready,” Loki begs. “I’m ready, please, brother, I need you, I need – _ah_ –”

 

A final flick of his wrist and Thor’s fingers withdraw, quickly replaced by Thor’s cock as he lines himself up and _shoves_ , withdrawing only to thrust back in in sharp, short bursts that bury him deeper and deeper, punching the air from Loki’s lungs.

 

“I know, brother,” Thor whispers, brushing back Loki’s hair to press gentle kisses against the curve of his spine. “Shh, let me take care of you.”

 

Thor doesn’t give Loki time to adjust to his size; the second he’s buried to the hilt, he’s pulling almost all the way out again and thrusting back in, setting a brutal, punishing pace. Loki can only lay there and take it, mouth open to let out little wet gasps, fists curled tight in the sheets and tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His knees keep slipping wider apart with every thrust, unable to hold himself up against his brother’s strength, but Thor doesn’t seem to mind; he simply wraps one arm around Loki’s waist to pull him close, the other braced beside Loki’s head.

 

“I-I’m close, Thor,” Loki manages, somehow still able to string words together when he can barely _think_. “Touch me, please, _please_ …”

 

“Quiet, brother, someone will hear you,” Thor says, mouthing along Loki’s jaw. Thor doesn’t touch him like Loki wants, but he does shift the angle of his thrusts, until he’s hitting Loki’s prostate with every drive of his hips, and Loki’s screaming into his pillow because of how _good_ it hurts; he can’t help it, can’t keep quiet even if his life depended on it because he’s surrounded by Thor, his senses overloaded with his brother, who’s stretching him open and filling him, ruining him, _loving_ him. 

 

It’s too much; Loki comes in thick, white, spurts, coating the sheets beneath him, clenching down hard on Thor’s cock as he shivers and sobs through his orgasm.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” his brother grunts, and Thor’s filling him up, his body tensing up behind Loki’s as he gives short little thrusts to milk out the last of his orgasm. Loki whimpers at the feeling of hot come coating his insides and leaking out of his hole, dripping down his thighs. He collapses onto the wet spot beneath him once Thor stops holding him up, his brother’s heavy weight pinning him down pleasantly.

 

“Fuck,” Thor repeats, pulling out of Loki and rolling over beside him. He drags a hand across his face, scratching absently at his chest, and even in the watered down moonlight his brother is golden. Loki _hates_ Thor for it, but not nearly as much as he loves him. “I’m gagging you next time.”

 

Thor says this every time, though; it’s not much of a threat, because Loki wouldn’t even really mind, as long as there _is_ a next time. He thinks he might even like it, because then he could be as loud as he wanted, since sometimes he can’t help the sounds he makes.

 

But Loki only offers Thor his brightest, sweetest smile, and Thor’s expression softens as he gathers Loki into his arms, cuddling him close and running his fingers through Loki’s damp locks. A part of Loki is sick and disgusted at himself, to allow himself to be used this way, but it doesn’t matter. In these moments, Thor is _his_ , and it’s enough.

 

Norns curse him, but it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> also on tumblr [here](http://pathatfatcat.tumblr.com/post/106992931250/uhm-hello-yes-this-is-the-gross-thing-i-was)


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